


Perplexing

by adam_42_man



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Thrawn Trilogy - Timothy Zahn
Genre: Art Enthusiast Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Fic Exchange, Gen, I hate thrawn so fucking much., I'm Sorry, M/M, Mistakes, Sherlock Makes Mistakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:00:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24858796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adam_42_man/pseuds/adam_42_man
Summary: Thrawn and Tarkin prepare to steal a whole museum.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker | Darth Vader/Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Wilhuff Tarkin/Darth Vader, Wilhuff Tarkin/Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	Perplexing

**Author's Note:**

> The tags are for the future as a just incase thing this first chapter is clean and wholesome I swear.

Thrawn stood, posing only lightly, in his primary cabin museum combo. Nerdy black eyes peered and examined a scroll so faded it was nearly dust.

According to the creepy little Rodian he bought it from, it originated on a secluded backwater world in the outer regions.

It was a poem, or so the Rodian claimed, he just couldn't read it, couldn't decipher the script.

"Perplexing," Thrawn commented, to no one in particular. "Maybe with the complete works available to me I can crack this dead language, and when I do….." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tarkin was not having a good day. None of Tarkin's days were particularly good, this one however, was particularly bad.

A shipment of new recruits had simply vanished during transport, Thrawn was up to his usual tricks, and finally the upper leftmost button on his great coat had been damaged by one of the malfunctioning service bots down in the laundromat.

Wilhuff was a practical man. He wouldn't have survived the harsh conditions of Eridau otherwise. The Grand Moff rummaged around a draw, upon grabbing the intended target he set to work, re-sewing the button. Satisfied with his task he gave it a light polish before inspecting the imposing figure he cut in a nearby mirror. It wouldn't do to let the troops see him so disheveled. 

With his affairs in order he departed, effortlessly navigating the labyrinthine corridors of the Imperial Star Destroyer. His destination, meeting room N, officially the Naboo suite. After a good twenty minutes he arrived at the smallest briefing room on the ship. As he entered, his eyes darted from side to side taking in: the room, its occupants, and it's data screens.

A lesser man might have huffed, or let out a snort of derision upon seeing the blue skinned menace in the flesh, not Tarkin. "This day is only getting started," he reflected. It was always troublesome when the Chiss smiled that way.

"So my good friend Larks, I bet you're wondering why you're here," you could almost feel the smugness radiating from Thrawn's mouth. At this moment Tarkin greatly envied Vader's ability to strangle people from a distance. "No no don't worry your pretty little head guessing, I will tell you." Beamed the grandmiral.

"We shall be investigating Nymphaea Nelumbo, the planet of the lotus eaters." Thrawn drawled on unprompted. "Now, why you? I hear you ask?"  
"I assume it in relation to the missing transport, my familiarity with the area, also the fact I requested a few days leave so I'm assuming that I'm only getting a change of scene instead, correct?" Tarkin stated simply "I am a Grand Moff, Mithrwandir, nothing passes through my fleet without my say so." A slow smile split across Tarkin's. A predator reveling in its weapons. 

Thrawn took a step back, hastily, covering the movement as repositioning. He had trapped himself on a dangerous mission with an even more dangerous man. "Yes indeed, that's correct sir." Thrawn floundered a thousand methods for re-establishing control shattered and useless before this hunter's grimace.

"It's the pair of us isn't it, a set of TIE L/N Scouta?" Inquired the man. 

A brief insight of horror flashed through thrawn's mind. "I can't hide anything from this man!" The anxieties started to whirl "If he knows about the black market Scouts does he know about the transport?" 

"I already have a spot booked for us in the prosthetics bay. Would you like to accompany me?" The request was a demand in no uncertain terms. Thrawn, had to run, had to regroup, had to reassess.

"No thank you, Sir. I have my own team, they're used to the work conditions after all." A small attempt at humour to disguise his I'll ease. Mithrawndir settled his cape before promptly exiting. 

"So what do you think of this, Lord Vader?"  
"I caught the fool snooping around the emperor's palace a couple of weeks ago. You are to prevent him from completing his mission. He can not know or we will be forced to execute him." Matter of fact, impersonal, a slight hint of malice. Vader's words shocked Tarkin.  
"Not to question the emperor's methods, however, If the mission is to be a failure anyway why bother?"

The slow systemic hiss of artificial life permeated the otherwise perfect silence of the void. 

"I think the emperor is fond of him. In the way he is fond of all his pet projects."  
"I see Lord Vader. I shall see this mission through." The Moff smiled, truly this time, a brief spark of empathy fluttered between the officers.  
"See to it, Tarkin, you are the only man I trust on this station." With a perfectly snapped salute wilhuff exited the briefing room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Teeth worried against newly formed prosthetics upon the Admirals face. He hates this, the fact he couldn't do regular work with his face. The melanin was darker this time, the lighter skin tone had been a serious blunder he only escaped thanks to his quick wit, it should help to conceal oxygen rich skin. 

Dark brown contact lenses could be glimpsed when Thrawn finally opened his eyes. They coloured his world slightly darker as his naturally more powerful eyes slowly adjusted to the foreign body obscuring his view.

He rubbed at his wrists, careful so no damage was done to grueling work applied to him. He was stiff, sore, and nervous. 

The last emotion was the most unwelcome. This was his plan, he should be feeling more in control. So why was he uneasy? Was it going circumventing imperial planning? No he did that all the time. Was it the mission itself? No he had been on more dangerous ventures by himself. "It must be Tarkin" he concluded. "I'll have to keep both eyes firmly peeled."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An imperial fighter hanger must be seen to be believed. The sense of scale is near unimaginable. Fighters, bombers, interceptors, all sat meticulously ordered. Workers swarmed them like mynocks given an unlimited buffet. 

Further into the dock lay an access hatch that would go mostly unnoticed. It was perfectly ordinary. Tarkin proceeded through the maelstrom to the hatch. He wasn't stopped, he should have been.

"You there!"  
An officer snapped to attention, his hand whipped to a hip mounted holster, ready for a fight.  
"No one has checked my clearance or even approached me. Why is that?"  
The officer turned, aimed the blaster. "Please present your papers for transport, any non compliance will lead to authorised use of lethal weapons."  
"Finally, this does not pass inspection." Tarkin commented as he handed over the necessary documents. "I expect a full report on this lack of security."  
"Of course Grand Moff. I take full responsibility." The officer, a few shades lighter after the realisation, replied. 

"Causing trouble Tarkin?" A callous voice emerged from the general din.  
"Doing my duty, admiral. Are the preparations ready?" Tarkin turned to see a human, roughly the same height and build as the grandmiral. "If it weren't for your insolence I might not have recognised you." He carried on. 

"You wound me, sir, the preparations are complete" jeered the Chiss. He squatted low and lifted the hatch with an ease that defied its weight. "After you." He motioned to the open gate with an undeserved flourish. 

Darkness encompassed them, only the blinking red lights of the stations monitoring systems lit the way. Tarkin ran his fingertip along the pipework, after a brief inspection he was satisfied with the cleaning schedule. A couple meters ahead the corridor opened up into a small secluded hanger bay. This was how the officers moved when they didn't want to be noticed. 

Two TIE/LN Scouts dangled from the ceiling suspended by power couplings and tiabana gas lines. Salutes whistled around them as the runts recognised true imperial might. Tarkin stalked around the vehicle he claimed as his own, issuing personal adjustments and thanking the staff for their hard work. 

Thrawn watched, calculations and adjustments thrummed through his brain. The technical details of the Moff's adjustments are locked into his perfect memory, no doubt they would provide further insight for his schemes. He approached the flight officer "Are there any delays to our schedule?"  
"No siree Admiral, all according to plan. The last ship was on time and left thirty minutes ago. Your slot for launch is in ten minutes." Blabbed the energetic woman, the lack of appropriate time was to be expected of pilot types, an eccentric lot.  
"Excellent."  
"Do you require any further assistance, admiral?" The chipper tone irked Thrawn more than usual.  
"That is all."

The normally silver haired fox stared at the clean cut exterior of his scout ship. Excitement blossomed in his chest like a child on life day. He was getting out. Some fool had taken over his paperwork. He was the most free he had been since his reposition to Grand Moff, he luxuriated in the bureaucracy mostly but even a man like Wilhuff could occasionally succumb to boredom. 

Ten minutes and a handful of seconds later, the unlikely duo blasted out of the hidden dock. Rays of starlight glinted and reflected off the scouts, it gave the illusion of two small comets rocketing towards their impending doom. 

The high pitched scream of two ion engines obscured all other thoughts in Thrawn's heads. When was the last time he flew, like this? It couldn't have been more than a standard galactic year. Had flying always been like this. The hard clench of his jaw and instantly tense shoulders reminded him that it had. As he looked through the cockpits' view ports he saw his partner accelerate into a death defying aileron roll, completing a half roll before immediately dropping on its side into a lower position. Thrawn couldn't help the slight gasp that escaped his traitorous respiration system.

Whoops unsuited to that of a high ranking imperial officer. In the solitude of his own ship, with no internal surveillance the mirth overflowed, tarkin truly let loose. As the g force from his roll increased he dropped the speed, increased his upward tilt, and rolled over Thrawn's ship.

"Pew, your dead admiral." Static buzzed and cleared. Thrawn skipped through shock and straight into disbelief. Grand Moff Tarkin had engaged him in a play fight. Grand Moff Tarkin had beaten him in a play fight. He didn't even know they were playing. He checked the instruments, the Scout trailed resolutely behind him. Thrawn had lost to this infuriating human, again!

"Start preparations for hyperspace, the jump spot for Eridau is in about half a parsec." The static crackled once again. "Once in the system we will maintain radio silence until we arrive at the destination." 

The chiss gripped his console controls harder. "Understood Tarks, might I suggest a mayday code?"  
"You may,"  
"The Codeword is Vader's Socks."  
"Cleared." Immediate response, undeterred. The line went dead.

The hyperspace jump went by with practiced perfection. The outer regions. Finally he would come a step closer to solving the mystery of the Sith.

"Vader's Socks! Vader's Socks! Vader's Socks!"

**Author's Note:**

> Yo this is my first fic and I've had a tonne of fun wring it so far. Any suggestions and improvements would be massively appreciated :D


End file.
